


Tease

by vix_spes



Series: Hobbit Kink Meme Fills [2]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Body Worship, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 20:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin can’t understand why Ori wants to do this but he isn’t going to complain…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at [hobbit-kink](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com) .... full prompt at the end.

Lying flat on his back on the bed that he shared with his husband, Dwalin marvelled at the fact that his brothers-in-law were still adamant that his husband was some innocent that Dwalin had led astray. His Ori was a tease; one that was intent on driving Dwalin out of his mind with pleasure.  
  
It hadn’t always been that way. When they had first started on their quest to reclaim Erebor, the Company meeting for the first time in the Shire, Ori had been permanently scared. The youngest of the Company, younger even than Fíli and Kíli. Even though he had two over-protective brothers already (Dori in particular had flapped around him like a mother-hen), Dwalin had felt responsible for the younger dwarf. Particularly considering that the only weaponry Ori had brought with him had been his blasted slingshot. And then when they had become the captives of the goblins and that damned Goblin King had told them to start with the youngest… he had given the lad his war-hammer and hoped for the best. The fact that the lad had wielded it, and wielded it well, had impressed him more than he had thought. The lad might be a scribe but he had the heart of a warrior. Nobody had made him feel like this. No other dwarf, none of the dwarf women who wielded their axes almost as well as him had made him feel like this. Instead, it was a scribe barely out of his majority who had Dwalin want to claim him and announce to everybody that Ori was his.  
  
When Ori had nearly fallen from the tree, Dwalin’s heart had been in his mouth and he had hated the fact that he was useless, that he couldn’t do anything. All he could do was hope that they would all make it out alive and curse Azog. When they survived, thanks to the help of eagles, he had come to a decision. The dwarrows had lost everything they held dear once before, when they lost Erebor, and he had no desire of becoming like Thorin so he was going to take this chance and make a play for what he wanted. For Ori. Being on the road wasn’t exactly conducive to courting, particularly Dwarvish courting but he would give it his best attempt. Even if it did mean having to deal with Ori’s older siblings.  
  
By the time that they had made it past Beorn’s house and through Mirkwood, Dwalin had made his offer to Ori, been accepted and they had been courting to the best of their abilities, which was very little to say the least. Despite how much he wanted Ori, the road was no place for those kind of activities or at least it wasn’t when you suspected that the other interested party was untouched. But by Mahal, that only made Dwalin want the lad more. Stolen kisses and occasional fumbling just wasn’t enough.  
  
Still, much to his amazement, he managed to wait until they had completed their quest and reclaimed Erebor. Then his patience had worn out. At the earliest opportunity he had dragged Ori into the chambers that he had claimed and, well, he had been surprised to say the least. There was no doubt that Ori was innocent and his actions were fumbling but what he lacked in experience, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. Now, there was nothing more that Dwalin liked better than being able to return to their chambers and find Ori waiting for him. That wasn’t to say that they had restricted themselves just to their chambers. All members of the Company had been elevated to high-up positions in Erebor and while Dwalin had found himself returned to his former position as head of Thorin’s Royal Guard, Ori had been assigned double duty as Chief Scribe and Royal Historian, something that he had been highly delighted with. Dwalin wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d taken advantage of the solitude in the library to, well, to be perfectly blunt, ravish Ori on more than one occasion.  
  
What had surprised Dwalin was the fact that Ori had been attracted to him and had accepted his courting in the first place. The lad was of an age with Kíli and had passed his majority a few years before the Quest, not that you would know it by the way that Dori mothered him. Ori was the complete opposite of Dwalin with his artistic abilities, his skills as a scribe and his predominantly knitted clothing, another sign of Dori’s mothering. Then there were his fairly lamentable weaponry skills although he was a crack shot with his slingshot and had done a more than passable job with Dwalin’s war hammer. Dwalin was under no illusions as to what most dwarrows thought of him; he wasn’t the most traditional looking of dwarrows having started losing his hair early, something which was practically unheard of for a dwarf, and then losing it completely after the battle of Azanulbizar which was definitely unheard of.  
  
He had got the tattoos done in response to losing his hair, the traditional dwarvish body art covering his head as well as his arms and back, liking the way that they contributed to his fearsome reputation and appearance. Somehow, Ori had seen past all of that as well as the fact that Dwalin had arrested his older brother too many times to count and fallen in love with the older dwarf.  
  
Still, that didn’t mean that his husband wasn’t a bloody tease who lived to torment him and drive him crazy with want … just like he was at this precise moment.  
  
When they had the time, and Dwalin made sure that they had the time frequently, there was nothing that Ori liked better than being able to thoroughly discover every inch of his husband’s body. Well, worship was more the right word for it. Ori would take his time using his fingers, lips and tongue to outline tattoos, trace body contours and lavish attention on scars from a myriad of occasions from his own weapons teaching alongside Thorin and Frerin to battle to teaching Fíli and Kíli and back to battle. No scar or tattoo, no matter how small, was missed out. He focused on Dwalin with the same single-mindedness that he showed when he was working on texts in Khuzhdûl or Westron in the library. Dwalin was never sure if Ori really was unaware of how much this single-minded focus turned him on or if he knew how hot it made Dwalin and simply did it anyway. Not that Dwalin was complaining, he just couldn’t comprehend why Ori had such an interest in paying this much attention to a lifetime of scars.  
  
There was one tattoo that always got the most attention though. The one that Ori would linger over, slowly but surely driving Dwalin wild with need as deft fingers traced the shapes before they were followed by kisses. It was the newest tattoo, the ink still dark and not faded. Once Erebor had started to return to its former glory and dwarrows had started to return from Ered Luin and Belegost, Dwalin had sought out the dwarf that had done all of his original tattoos and had a new design inked into the skin just above his heart.  
  
While most of his other tattoos were Cirth runes, this one took the form of lines of Khuzhdûl. Its design told of their Quest, of how his relationship with Ori had formed and developed. Dwalin loved the way that it looked and, what was more important, Ori loved the way that it looked. He had an appreciation for all of Dwalin’s tattoos but this one was his very favourite. Dwalin had asked him about it once and had been somewhat surprised and pleased by the response that he had received. Ori had said that he loved the tattoo because, should Dwalin be training or working in the forge, if he took his shirt off then the fact that Ori was his and he was Ori’s was written there clear as day for everyone to see.  
  
Dwalin couldn’t help but shiver at the sensations, his hips jerking of their own volition as fingers and kisses were followed by Ori’s tongue, tracing the lines of runes and he tangled a hand in Ori’s hair, pulling him away and doing his very best to ignore Ori’s attempted pout at his actions (the lad had been spending too much time with Kíli).  
  
“Why did you do that? And I can’t read your tattoo when you’re trembling and moving like this.”  
  
Dwalin groaned, “Mahal save me. You don’t need to read the tattoo lad; you know what it says already.”  
  
“That’s not the point Dwalin.” As he spoke, Ori squirmed causing a groan to rip itself from Dwalin’s throat, even as his hands clamped down on Ori’s hips in an attempt to still his movements.  
  
 _“Ori,”_ Dwalin used his grip on Ori’s hips to roll them over so that the younger dwarf was pinned underneath him although the shift in position did very little to halt Ori’s writhing, his hands tangling in Dwalin’s hair.  
  
“Please, lad, just please let me have you”, Dwalin wasn’t ashamed to admit that Ori had him wrapped around his little finger.  
  
“You can have me any way you want _Mister Dwalin_.”  
  
Dwalin groaned low in his throat, one large hand easily spanning Ori's wrists and pinioning them above his head even as his bulk pressed Ori into the bed. What had happened to the sweet and innocent dwarf that had started out on the Quest? But then Ori had really come into his own since they had set out from the Shire and, even if he was an unashamed tease in their bed, he had still retained that sweetness and innocence that had made Dwalin want to protect him.  
  
“Mahal save me lad, but you’re going to be the death of me.” Still, as he dipped his head to kiss the unrepentant smirk off his husband’s lips, Dwalin couldn’t help but think that it would be a hell of a way to go.

**Author's Note:**

> Ori just really likes paying attention to and touching Dwalin’s scars and the bite mark on his ear and tracing his tattoos. He’s so focused on observing all of Dwalin’s body that he hardly notices how crazy he’s making Dwalin with his touching and looking and worshipping. It’s not just the touching, but the fact that someone would pay such close attention to him that makes Dwalin hot. “I can’t read your tattoo when you’re trembling like this-“ “Please, lad, just please let me have you”


End file.
